Captured
by retribution
Summary: Lt. Bush inadvertently meets a person from his past. The resulting changes to his life are a little more than he can handle.
1. Prologue

Title: Captured. Disclaimer: It belongs to A and E the way its written here.until I read the books that is. Also belongs to CS Forester. Lucky bum. Notes: A rather longer story concentrating on Bush.  
  
Brighton: 1790  
  
There were some things that William Bush wanted to deny from his childhood. Particularly two things came to mind: his father's predilection for making him eat turnips and a six year old terror named Katherine Miller.  
  
He had been a young midshipman, rapidly approaching sixteen when a landfall from his time on his ship brought him to his father and mother's home in Brighton. His own father had been home for a short time, and at his mother's request, all the children returned home to the roost.  
  
The family home was as he remembered it from when he had left it last. The only thing that was different was the man, equal of age to his own father and the addition of two children that he was sure were not his siblings. With his own brood of six and the addition of two, two women and two men under one roof, it was only a matter of time until he, his father and the Captain and one or two extras left to view the Archangel at dock.  
  
It had been a beautiful ship: tall and proud masts extending to the very Heavens. He had listened quietly to the conversation of the day and of his father and Captain Miller interjecting when asked. The two other 'extras' scampered away. William had never been one for children and as such, he had not watched where they went. Until of course.  
  
"William, son.find young Katherine if you would. She's wandered off."  
  
A direct order from a captain and his father. Probably the only thing that would send him after a young girl not larger than a sidearm and that was terrible willful. He wandered the deck looking for the errant waif. The expected packed sail and creaking masts were ever present and the same as they had been for the last five years of his life asea. Gulls winging overhead were more familiar to him than his father's roar. All was as expected and right on a ship anchored at port. What he had not expected to see was a pair of thin legs attached to feet covered in boots dangling from the rigging above his head. It appeared that he had found young Katherine and it seemed that she was not quite in control of her limbs and quite in possibility of being dumped indecorously to the deck.  
  
"Good Lord," he breathed. He took off his hat and jumped toward the side, pulling on the ropes to propel himself upwards while at the same time trying to steady it to not dump its cargo on the hard wood of the deck. But as he reached the footholds of the rigging, the girl slipped from the ropes to create a very undignified pile of linen, patent leather and skin.  
  
He cursed and jumped to the deck after her. "Here there. What on God's Earth did you intend." he stopped as he realized that the girl wasn't moving. Wasn't moving as a child would at least. He heard a rattling in her breathing he had heard when men had taken shots on deck and were breathing their last. With a shout for help, he crouched next to her, reaching to still her head.  
  
The shout brought no one. He cursed under his breath again and assessed the situation as he was trained to do. She remained blessedly unconscious, but he could see no blood anywhere on her body. But with the breathing..  
  
"Blasted hell.broken ribs." he cursed. "My father will have my soul in a cup. But if you stay here, tyke, you'll be worse off. I'll have to move you."  
  
Gently as he could, he pulled at his neck kerchief and coat. In a matter moments, she was wrapped and tied into his makeshift cocoon. Then he rolled her into his arms and against his chest. He stood and looked down at her face that twisted in pain even in peaceful slumber. He shook his head and as quickly as possible made his way across deck to the platform and his father.  
  
It wasn't until his feet touched ground that her large brown eyes opened and squinted up at him. He could see the pain in them. And it scared him: pain in one so young.  
  
"Hush now.peace," he urged, finding himself stumbling over the words. "More talk and wiggling will give you more pain."  
  
"Who are you?" she demanded, wincing.  
  
"Apparently your guardian angel."  
  
Of course, in later years, he would look back and find it as one of the more endearing points of his childhood, no matter how mundane a moment it was. Those words would haunt him.  
  
But above all, the day he became Katherine Miller's guardian angel definitely was a better situation than to him than eating turnips. 


	2. Revisitation

March 1802  
  
"Blast."  
  
She bit her lip as soon as the word left her mouth, but it wasn't quick enough for her father not to hear.  
  
"Katherine. Such language. Your mother would turn in her grave."  
  
"With respect, Father," she answered, turning from the window. "With all respect, Mother was never held prisoner in the West Indies."  
  
When her father sighed, she turned back to the window. Although quite clouded, the glass showed what was visible of the small village and clearing. Several French soldiers stood at arms in near the door. Beyond that, Katherine could see what remained of the meager and tired group of passengers that had traveled on her father's cargo ship. They milled near the door of another small cabin. She frowned and swiped at her brown hair as it fell into her eyes. "They'll be taking me out soon to rejoin the other passengers."  
  
She turned and retreated to her father's side. The crimson stain on his leg was spreading. She knew that leeching would be his best option, but they had no such luxury.  
  
"It doesn't pain me, Katie, daughter, if that's what you are wondering," Captain Miller replied the unanswered question. "You needn't stand vigil. My officers and I can take care of our injuries fine."  
  
Katherine sighed heavily and shook her head. "I've never seen this much blood, Father. I could help with injuries, yes, but never one on either you or William."  
  
"You've always surprised me, Kat. When they come for you, go. Don't hesitate, don't draw attention to yourself. Mingle with the other passengers, the women and don't let them know that you are my daughter. If you play it right," he shifted and waved for his child to come closer. "Play it right and when they release the women into the custody of the governor in Kingston you shall be released as well."  
  
"Surely the Bahamas are closer, Father," she returned, easing the cover away from the wound. As far as she could tell there was no putrefaction yet.  
  
"Aye, but Jamaica is the Crown here, lass," he replied. "Listen to me, Kat. Do as your father says. Don't let on that you are my daughter. They will detain you with the officers and I."  
  
She bit her lip and nodded dutifully. But as she reached to change the dressing on his wound, he missed the glint in her eyes that would have reminded him of his son. And his own eyes. It was a glint of determination.  
  
**  
  
She stumbled back across the clearing. Her bonnet was around her neck, slapping at her back. It was a trade off in her mind whether it was cooler on her head or where it was. Her dress was muddy from the rain that had fallen the night before. At least it settled the dust, she thought, but caused moist changes on the injured.  
  
A glance toward the bay showed what was left of the Archangel. It listed on its side. One of its main masts was cracked and dangling. Even from this distance, she could see the battle scoring on the side of the ship. Although a cargo ship and passenger transport, its several guns had seen action. Too much in her estimation.  
  
She lifted her hem to allow her to quickly jog across the clearing to the rest of the passengers. Her slippers didn't give her protection and she uttered a very unladylike curse as she entered the circle of the other women that had been aboard her father's ship.  
  
"Really, Miss Miller," Mary McMullen replied.  
  
"My apologies, ma'am," Katherine said, a trifle too quickly. It was obvious that her mind wasn't entirely on that task.  
  
Mary fanned herself and gave a knowing smile to her companion, a certain Petunia Evans. "You were raised by your father, were you not?"  
  
The elder woman frowned slightly at the look in Katherine's eyes when the girl adjusted her bonnet. "My mother passed when I was eleven, Mrs. McMullen. I have lived most of my life with my aunt in Portsmouth."  
  
"I had thought."  
  
"I have sailed with my father to America, to the Gold Coast and now to Jamaica," Katherine replied. "How are the children?"  
  
"As well as can be expected, I suppose," Mrs. Evans continued to fan herself. "And the officers of the Archangel?"  
  
Katherine grimaced. Before she could answer two of the remaining passenger men joined their threesome. She nodded in greeting. "The first lieutenant and the doctor are dead, I'm afraid. The other officers.including my father.are well enough. Several injuries, I'm afraid, however. Some serious."  
  
"I had thought so. So much loss of life," one of the elderly men recounted. "Most men, and quite a few of the boys."  
  
"It is the French," the other man answered. Katherine had yet to ascertain their names. "Rather be dead than a prisoner, most of them would say."  
  
Katherine frowned slightly and continued to shake her head. "My father thinks that the Governor in Kingston will send a mediary for us. At that point, most of the women."  
  
".will be released. It is under the Articles of War, yes," one of the men agreed.  
  
"But, sir, what is the clause for officers?"  
  
The man reacted to the sound of fear in Katherine's voice. "Ah, lass. If they are officers and gentlemen and the Archangel has surrendered and does not try to escape, they will be spared until they are placed in a French prison."  
  
Katherine lowered her eyes. Mrs. McMullen answered. "A fate worse than death, surely?"  
  
As the men and women around her erupted into conversation, the girl raised her eyes. Petunia Evans would later describe her look as either inspired or horrified, but either way, the look in Katherine's eyes would haunt her for some time.  
  
**  
  
Isla Flora St. James's Island The same time  
  
"Blast."  
  
Horatio Hornblower glanced sideways at Mr. Kennedy and grimaced. "Is that your personal opinion of the situation, Mr. Kennedy?"  
  
"It certainly does look as though that ship has seen more action than we have had in the last six months together." Kennedy agreed, his blue eyes flashing in the heat of the Caribbean day.  
  
William Bush gave a wry grin and looked over his shoulder at Archibald Kennedy before he returned his gaze to his glass. "Is that a comment on our boredom or on the poor status of that ship, Mr. Kennedy?"  
  
Hornblower barely held back with a choke of laughter. He was beginning to like Bush or at least appreciate his dry sense of humor. Besides, any time spent off of the Renown and away from Captain Sawyer was cause for some happiness. He brandished his glass and looked across the small inlet as his superior officer was doing at that moment.  
  
"Well, Mr. Bush?" he pressed. "What say you?"  
  
"The ship certainly has seen more action that we have," Bush intoned, lowly. In contrast to his dear friend Kennedy, Bush was shorter and darker. His chestnut hair and blue eyes seemed plain next to Archie's blond locks and bright blue eyes, but the expressive face which the hair framed was anything but mundane. Their voices, too, were very different. Archie had always been excitable both in actions and speech. It seemed the William Bush was much more deliberate in speech and action and that was to be heard in his voice. "But at this point, I'm more inclined to worry for the supplies it was carrying and the passengers that were on board, Mr. Hornblower."  
  
"Aye, sir," he agreed. He scanned the other side of the beach. So far they had only seen two French sentries and the men of the Renown were getting antsy. "We'll have to do something soon, Mr. Bush, or the men will begin to question their purpose here."  
  
Bush quietly collapsed his glass and frowned. "I realize that, Mr. Hornblower. I realize that. Mr. Kennedy? Please inform Mr. Matthews and Styles to ready the men for charge." He turned to the boy next to him. "Wellard? Find Mr. Holmes to ready what gunpowder we brought with us."  
  
Horatio nodded quickly and added his input. "We should split the company, Mr. Bush. Mr. Kennedy and I could lead the men with the gunpowder around to the camp from the western side. If it's the same as most other temporary camps set up by the French, the supplies and ammunition will be on the leeward side. Then you could approach from the beach."  
  
".and cut off their escape route. Clever, Hornblower," Bush agreed quietly. "We shall have to give you a head start. Backtrack to the beach and around. Say.fifteen to twenty minutes? It will give you time to place charges if given the opportunity. Yes?"  
  
"Aye, sir," Hornblower answered. "With your permission?"  
  
Bush nodded and returned to observing the opposite beach. As several of his meager group of men split off to follow Mr. Hornblower and Mr. Kennedy into the jungle of the island, he sighed under his breath. "Damn. I wish I knew where the passengers were. Mr. Styles? Gather the troops and alert the Marines. We shall charge at the top of the hour."  
  
**  
  
Katherine finished knotting the two strips of muslin and cotton together and tightened it. It was a slip knot and she was quite happy with the outcome. A young lad of maybe 10 watched her actions with an interested eye. "You'll learn the knots someday," she encouraged. The boy gave her a smile and rose to scamper of to his mother.  
  
"I think this is quite the irrational option, Miss Miller," Mary commented. She tucked her skirt about her legs and frowned. "And the waste of a perfectly good petticoat in my estimation."  
  
"I want to be prepared in any way if an opportunity presents itself," she replied, glancing up at the other women. The men were standing sentry at the door. "I don't know if any will, but I do wish not to leave my father helpless with the French if I'm given the option. They've taken our weapons and all we have left are things like this."  
  
"Our clothes." Petunia sighed. "What do you think you'll do with that?"  
  
Katherine looked down at the looped and measured lengths of cotton. Then with raised eyebrows, she shrugged gently. "I'm not quite sure, but it might come in for use."  
  
Before she could continue with her explanation, she heard a loud shout in French.alarm.and then several rounds of gunfire. There was a far off cry of "Marines to me" and then another round of parry fire.  
  
"Someone is attacking the camp," one of the older men replied from the door. He ducked as stray fire hit the exterior of the house.  
  
"Someone has rebelled?" one of the women asked.  
  
Katherine followed one of the young boys to the window and pulled him back by his breeches as he tried to look out the window. "Down, James." When she set the lad on his feet, she glanced out the window. After a moment of searching the area, she frowned. "Not rebelling. I see British naval uniforms. I do believe someone has launched a rescue."  
  
Mary and Petunia backed to the corner of the house until Katherine frowned and waved them more towards the center of the structure. "We're saved?"  
  
The girl lifted and eyebrow and sighed under her breath: "Probably have need of the supplies." Then turning, she saw the two guards from the door run off.  
  
One of the men at the door cautiously opened it and glanced out. "There's no one manning the door. We could make a run for it."  
  
Katherine was going to state her opposition when another round of parry fire hit the cabin. She ducked and breathed out a small cry of outrage. "We couldn't be sitting ducks any more, I suppose, out there than here."  
  
"The jungle," the man agreed.  
  
As the room dissolved into men gathering their wives and children, other men helping still other women, Katherine picked up her makeshift rope of cotton strips and tripped toward the door. She left her bonnet lying in the dust on the floor.  
  
**  
  
There was no use for the rope, but she still clung to it, slung over her shoulder. Her hands, however, were filled. She half pulled, half carried small James Smith by the hand and had absconded with a gun with the other. As they approached the edge of the jungle behind the others, she heard a loud shout in French and twisted around. She felt the child bury his face into her skirts and she faced the French solider. Her hands somehow held the single shot pistol steady, but she never had a chance to fire. He fell in a mess of blood and skin.  
  
Before she could even put the safety back on the gun, she was faced with a strong chest and dark blue of a Naval lieutenant uniform. The gun was wrenched from her hand with a shouted apology and her world was filled with a man's back as he twisted and fired the gun.  
  
"Renown's to me!"  
  
It was a deep voice, but more so in feeling than in tone. Her hand landed at his back.  
  
"Miss?" the solider shouted and reached out to gather her hand in his. James rushed behind her, still clinging to both her hand and skirts. "Out of range, Miss, run for the jungle. Now!"  
  
She tried to push James ahead of her, but yelled as a French solider appeared in front of her. The officer cursed and she felt the displaced air of a bullet as it flew past her ear. The child screamed and suddenly a strong arm encircled her. "Blasted French," came the low curse. He pushed her toward a clump of trees. As they rounded and crouched, two more officers joined them along with two lesser sailors. The child landed on her lap and whimpered.  
  
Katherine tried to look out at the camp and the rest of the passengers but had her shoulder and head pushed low by the officer. "My apologies," came the low comment. "But please stay down, Miss."  
  
He leaned around the tree and then rocketed back as return fire pinned him. "Damn, Hornblower, where are you? Set the charges, man," the officer complained under his breath.  
  
"Commission?" Katherine breathed.  
  
"The Renown, ma'am," the officer stated under his breath. "Second lieutenant. Ship?"  
  
"The Archangel. Supplies and passenger. Captain James Miller commissioned," Katherine answered easily. "Raided and captured one week ago."  
  
The officer squinted at the name, but held his tongue. "Officers?"  
  
"Four dead, three living. Captain Miller among them, sir. Twenty dead among passengers. Twelve living."  
  
"Very well informed," the officer said and turned to pin Katherine with a stare as he repowdered his gun. "Ma'am?"  
  
She started momentarily at the pale blueness of his eyes. His hair was unruly and curled about his brow. Whether the weather or his own perspiration was responsible, his face was slick with moisture. The other men with them emptied their guns towards the approaching French. "If you are asking if I can reload guns, I can. Hand me the powder, sir."  
  
"Much obliged," he intoned and flipped over to glance at the approaching French. "Damn. Too close to retreat."  
  
Katherine loaded his gun as quickly as possible as he shot with the other gun that he carried. They exchanged firearms. She continued to load powder as the other men around her emptied their guns into the surrounding soldiers.  
  
As they fired a third round, she felt his hand close on her wrist. As the first French soldiers rounded the clump of trees, she was suddenly pressed to the trunk behind him as he rose into a crouch. Almost reluctantly, she realized that he was completely hiding her with his bulk from the other approaching men.  
  
In French, she heard the call for surrender. She was surprised to see him turn and glance at her and the child with her before he began to remove the sword from his waist. The sinking feeling in her stomach let her know that if she had not been there, the officer might have attempted to fight further. She was going to voice that opinion when the world suddenly exploded in light, sound and the god awful smell of ignited gunpowder in large quantity.  
  
But once the light and sound disappeared, Katherine saw that men in the red of the Royal Marines and blue of the Royal Navy surrounded them. In the space of one moment, it was clear that they had somehow won the fight.  
  
The officer with her rose as two others ran across the clearing to him. "Mr. Bush, so glad that you are safe." The darker of the two younger officers called.  
  
Katherine gasped at the name and stared at the older lieutenant. He glanced at her and gave a weak smile. "Lt. Bush of the Renown," he explained as he reached to gather the guns from her hands. "I am known to Captain Miller. Do you know where they are held, ma'am?"  
  
"Captain Miller and the other officers are wounded," she felt the words trip out of her mouth before she could monitor her speech. "They are in the cabin at the far side of the encampment, sir."  
  
"Again, very well informed," Bush commented as he joined his fellow officers.  
  
"I should be informed, Mr. Bush," Katherine voiced, pulling James to his feet. "He is my father." 


	3. Storm

Archie Kennedy stood thigh deep in water, steadying the skiff as two of the women were lifted, carefully, into its body. He nodded graciously and extended his hand to help the women to sit. "Careful there. Mind your step."  
  
Mary McMullen gave the lad a smile and sat primly on the bare wood plank. Several other passengers rested in the body of the small boat. The rowers climbed aboard. When the Fourth Lieutenant was pleased that all the passengers were properly seated, he nodded to the rowers. "All speed to the Renown. Matthew, Styles?"  
  
"Aye, aye, sir," they acknowledged.  
  
"You're next," Bush called out and Kennedy waved. "You and Hornblower on the next launch. Take the wounded, as many as you can. I'll follow on the last."  
  
"We won't be able to take all of them," Kennedy voiced.  
  
Hornblower shook his head and approached. "Captain Miller and the Midshipman will have to lay level as possible. Their wounds will be worse if not. The weather looks like it will take a poor turn as well. We should leave at the same time."  
  
Bush squinted at the sky. "So it does. Let's not dally then." Turning, he nodded to his fellow lieutenants. Hornblower bellowed out several orders and was answered by his men. Within minutes, the remaining injured were lifted and carried to the waiting skiff.  
  
Katherine finished securing a bind to her father's leg and gave a hard tie to the knot. Captain Miller released a grunt. "That's a hard twist, Katherine."  
  
Hornblower squatted by them in the sand. "A good bandage. You've had medical."  
  
"No, Mr. Hornblower, but when one travels during a war." she responded with a small shrug.  
  
"My men should go in the first skiff," Captain Miller ordered. "As will my daughter."  
  
"Father," Katherine warned. "Think with reason. We can fix more of the walking wounded in the first skiff if I stay behind and go in the last. I'm smaller than the men anyway."  
  
Horatio nodded with a pleased frown. "She does have a point. I'll transfer two more of your officers onto our skiff. Miss Miller, you'll have to keep your father's leg level until Doctor Clive on the Renown can see him."  
  
She gave the lieutenant a gentle smile and remained at her father's side. It wasn't until Hornblower and Kennedy had left and Bush returned from organizing the final burial of the dead that he noticed the addition of Katherine Miller to his skiff. There was little time to address the situation, however, as a rain began to fall. And the French Frigate that had done the damage to the Archangel was somewhere in the area.  
  
"Captain Miller, sir? If you would allow Styles and myself to assist you to the skiff, sir." He plied and bent. "Miss Miller?"  
  
She stood and waded a short distance to the skiff. Bush followed, holding the arms of the prone Captain. Between the two of them, Styles and Bush, the Captain was loaded onto the skiff. The Second Lieutenant, senseless with his head wound, was piled next to the Captain. Kate listed at the side of the skiff until the rest of the men waded out to join her. Even with most of the men on the other skiff, most of the seats were filled.  
  
"If I may?"  
  
The words rumbled in her ear and she felt an arm slip under her legs and back. Styles, a much taller man, levered her off the ground and aloft. She felt the hard wood of the skiff against her back.  
  
Styles was startled by far off gunfire and Katherine was indecorously dumped to the deck. "Have a care," she hissed. Her outrage was cut short as the remaining men rocketed into the skiff.  
  
"Man the oars," Bush roared, quietly. "The French are close. You can hear the off sound of the guns from here. Put your backs into it; we row for the Renown." He climbed over the side of the skiff and into the body. With a sigh, he reached down to aid Katherine to the seat at her Father's head. "Styles! I'll have your hands if you drop a lady like that again."  
  
"I am fine, Mr. Bush," she reiterated as the rest of the men climbed into the launch.  
  
"My orders are clear, Miss Miller," he commented.  
  
The frown that she gave Mr. Bush fell on blind eyes. He reached behind, shifting his coat in the light rain, to hold the rudder. She shimmied to the side of the seat by her father's head and steadied him as the skiff moved further away from the beach.  
  
**  
  
"It's the French Frigate, sir," Styles stated.  
  
Bush nodded grimly and waved the oars back into the water. "The Renown is west south west. We'll have to pull around the bay and into her from the north to avoid fire. Styles, pull oars and pivot."  
  
"Aye, aye, sir," the sailor answered. Within moments, the small boat began to turn away from the firing Frigate.  
  
"Is it the other launches?"  
  
Bush raised his eyebrow and glanced down at the girl. "They fire on the Renown, Miss Miller."  
  
Katherine glanced over the side of the launch to the far off British Frigate. She bit her lip, but Bush shook his head slowly at her visible lack of comfort.  
  
"She can handle her own, Miss Miller," he remarked. "Styles, once we've completed the pivot, man the oars and pull."  
  
The rain was still coming down hard and Katherine turned her attention to keeping Captain Miller's leg dry and elevated, away from the collecting moisture in the bottom of the hull. Thankfully, in her estimation, the attention of the senior officer from the Renown returned to the approach to the mother ship. The water that trickled into her eyes was not the blinding sea water that sprayed in her eyes often when at sea with her father, but it still darkened her vision.  
  
"Katherine, daughter?"  
  
She shimmied near her father and bent over him. But as still as she tried to be about her movement, the launch still tilted slightly. "Yes, father?"  
  
"You're shivering."  
  
"It's the rain; that's all," she breathed. "Your leg: does it pain you?"  
  
He shifted and moaned from the movement. It was answer enough for Katherine. She edged her father's coat under his leg to elevate it more. She could see the warning in her father's eyes, but she ignored it. Her hem was covered in water and in her mind, putting a coat over her shoulders was a non issue. It better served the purpose under his leg.  
  
The sudden stop of the skiff had her rocking forward over her father's leg. She felt a hand at her back to steady her. Bush pounded through the rest of the skiff to the front. "Blasted hell, we're a ground. Hobbs..."  
  
"In the weather, sir. It's impossible to see."  
  
As the several men began to talk, she righted her father and frowned. Aground, in the rain.with injured. The day was worsening.  
  
"I don't want excuses, Mr. Hobbs." Bush warned. "I want two men to take the side and wade out. We'll feed line to them and we can be pulled off the bar. Now." he pointed at two men and watched as they got over the side. It became obvious, though, that the boat was stubbornly refusing to move. With a grunt, Bush shook his head. "Too much weight in hull. Styles, Randall.get the men over the side."  
  
Katherine stayed where she was until she realized that the skiff was not going to move even with most of the men over the side. With a frown, she adjusted her father and shimmied to the side of the skiff. Bush had just splashed into the water when she quietly called his name. His turn was more in surprise at the sound of her melodious voice than in the inquiry. "If you would, Mr. Bush, I don't think I want Styles to catch me again."  
  
"Catch." he barely had time to register her comment when she began to climb over the side. He reached out to catch her about the waist as she splashed into the water alongside him. He frowned and released her.  
  
She moved away from the skiff. Her father glanced at her, his eyes barely open. She wiped at the hair in her eyes and shook her head slightly. If her being out of the skiff would allow it to be afloat more quickly, then she would stay out of it.  
  
Mr. Bush took up a place alongside the skiff to push as his men waded and pulled. Katherine followed at a short distance as the boat keeled across the shallows to the deeper part of the bar. The gun fire grew louder and she winced at the sound of it. Soon, the launch was afloat and the men began to pile back in. The lieutenant waved her on and frowned as the deepening water slowed her progress. With a shake of his head, he reached for her when she was close enough, lifting her with an arm across her back and knees.  
  
"Excuse me," he commented and lifted her to a man called Randall. When she was aboard, he climbed smartly alongside her and into the body again. "Man oars, and pull, Men. We need the Renown as much as she needs us. Put your backs into it."  
  
**  
  
It grew dark and the rain became colder as it fell. The breakneck pace of the rowing slowed as the skiff drew around the bay to approach from the north. It seemed to Katherine that the Second Class Frigate was just as far away as it had started out to be. The comment was made to her father.  
  
"They're moving the ship, Kat," her father replied weakly. "They've taken on heavy fire."  
  
"They're sinking?" she asked, plainly.  
  
"No."  
  
Bush had eased a little lower in the body of the skiff to lower the center of gravity. His voice rumbled near her ear in answer. "Far from it, but she took heavy fire, but can't take another round currently. She's moved out to deep water. We'll have to row to her. Captain Sawyer will wait for the Captain of the Archangel. Never fear."  
  
She nodded and swiped at her hair again. "That's the way of it."  
  
She lapsed into silence as she adjusted her father on the bench of the skiff. As the boat entered the unprotected water of the open sea, its rocking increased and the rain increased in falling tempo.  
  
"A gale!" Bush shouted. "A full gale by tonight, no doubt. Captain Miller?"  
  
"Quite," came the weak reply.  
  
Katherine edged to the side of the boat and held onto the side as it began to rock earnestly. She felt a warmth at her shoulders and started as she realized that the Renown's Second Lieutenant had taken off his coat. It was the drape of the cloth about her shoulders that added the weight and warmth. "Mr. Bush, sir."  
  
Bush lifted an eyebrow and looped his arm around the rudder lever. There was nothing else said.  
  
Within a half an hour, the skiff edged to the side of the Renown. The patients were taken from the boat in slings and the rest were urged to climb on their own power. Katherine found herself propelled by Mr. Bush to the ladder first. His shouted order kept most of the men from following her. When she cleared the side, after she climbed the rungs, she saw that Bush was climbing behind her, by some distance. Her confusion was cut short as he gained the side.  
  
"Why did you order those men to hold?" she asked, curious, her eyes looking to her father. "Sir." She added.  
  
"For your modesty," he answered simply. He gave her a slight nod and turned.  
  
She gaped at him as he strode across the rolling deck to his Captain. It was all soon forgotten by the time she located her father.  
  
**  
  
"All survivors aboard, sir," Bush answered with a slight salute. Captain Sawyer turned and gave a slight nod.  
  
"I understand there were several casualties," Doctor Clive replied.  
  
"Among the passengers, yes," Bush turned and addressed Mr. Hornblower as he approached. "Two of the officers are wounded the rest are dead."  
  
"And the provisions? The supplies?" Captain Sawyer pressed. "They were earmarked for Kingston and the fleet, Mr. Bush."  
  
"And they are safe as well, sir," Bush answered. "And should already be aboard. Mr. Hornblower?"  
  
"Aye, sir, aboard."  
  
Bush watched as the doctor swung about to glance over at the wounded. "With respect, sir, the Captain of the Archangel is badly wounded."  
  
The doctor gave a frown and looked around for his mate. "Thank you, Mr. Bush."  
  
The Second Lieutenant nodded to the doctor, took his leave of the Captain and retired to the Wardroom with Lieutenant Hornblower in tow. As the entered the room, he began to shed his vest and kerchief. When his companion had not said a word, he slowed disrobing. "Mr. Hornblower?"  
  
"You are known to Captain Miller, Mr. Bush?" Hornblower asked. He set his hat down on the table and sank into a chair at the mess. He watched his superior finish taking off his shirt and watched him wash his face, arms and chest before the reserved older lieutenant answered. In the dim light of the wardroom at night, in the rain, William Bush looked dark. The white of his shirt as he donned it again was a stark change.  
  
"My father is known to him. A friend, yes," Bush answered quietly. He wiped his neck and glanced at Hornblower. "This line of questioning, Mr. Hornblower?"  
  
"And his daughter?"  
  
"Katherine?" Bush stretched his neck to begin to retie his kerchief. "I knew her as a child."  
  
Horatio nodded with a small smile. "And your coat, Mr. Bush?"  
  
The officer glanced around in shock before he shut his eyes. "I left it with her."  
  
"Ah." Horatio intoned. He smiled as Bush hurriedly finished his hygiene and turned towards the door. "Mr. Bush, I do believe the Captain has a standing order about full dress on the quarter deck."  
  
"Indeed he does, Mr. Hornblower," the older man answered. He disappeared around the corner, his back straight. Horatio let loose a smile that Mr. Kennedy, as he entered the wardroom soon after Mr. Bush had vacated it, joined in readily.  
  
**  
  
Katherine stumbled after the doctor and his mate up the quarter deck to the sick bay. Mr. Bush's jacket slapped at her calves as she ran not nearly blindly as she would have thought through the cannons, loose rigging and splintered deck of a Ship of the Line that had seen action. It wasn't that different from her father's own ship, one that she knew like the back of her hand.  
  
The sheer number of men was very different from what she was used to, however. She found herself clamoring over legs, ropes, men and stray rigging. It was hard not to step on anything, but she was determined to stay up with the doctor. The man she was following called orders for a sword and laudanum.  
  
She knew why.  
  
As she followed him in a door, she saw her father lying on a plank. "Doctor."  
  
The officer stopped as he was slipping on his apron. "Miss."  
  
".Miller. Katherine Miller." she breathed. "Sir.Captain Miller is my father."  
  
"Your father's leg is septic," Clive called out. "It will have to be amputated."  
  
She bit her lip and pulled at the coat around her shoulders. She had assumed that was the case. A glance at her father assured her that he was blessedly unconscious. "And your assistant?" She knew that an assistant was necessary to the clean and excellent removal of a limb. She also knew the odds of living once the limb was removed.  
  
But she knew the odds of living was less if it remained attached.  
  
"He was killed in action," the doctor replied, tying the apron. "If you would kindly."  
  
Katherine sighed and walked forward to the bed. "I've helped occasionally with surgery on my father's ship. Not well.but I know what has to happen. I know you need your assistant."  
  
The doctor grimaced, but nodded. He was indeed in need of assistance with the amputation. They could tie the patient to the plank, but someone needed to help with ligatures and turnicates. "You know ligatures and the like?"  
  
"I do," she grimly answered.  
  
"Then gather the articles, Miss Miller."  
  
**  
  
Mr. Bush had given what orders needed giving and had gone looking for either Captain or Katherine Miller and his errant coat. Avoiding Captain Sawyer was of top priority as he walked among his men and his guns on aft deck. He did indeed feel naked without his coat.  
  
Matthews pointed out that he had last seen Miss Miller heading toward the sick bay, Bush nodded calmly, a bit too calmly for the boson, but he held his tongue. As he rounded the final corner and pushed open the door to the room that in his estimation smelled like death itself, he felt the weight of the door taken from him. Doctor Clive held the portal and gazed grimly at Bush before he glanced behind at the table. "You're known to Captain Miller, Mr. Bush? His leg has been removed; he'll hopefully mend."  
  
"Good, good," the Lieutenant replied. "He is."  
  
".unconscious. I am leaving orders to have him moved to my quarters."  
  
"Good. I shall check in with your permission and leave my respects with him later. Have you seen Miss Miller?"  
  
The door opened wider and a very young looking Katherine Miller stood behind the doctor with a grim look on her face. The blood that covered her front, her face and his coat was enough to make him take a deep breath. His eyes looked for a wound on her body, but then realized that it was her father's blood. She was covered in it.  
  
"Miss Miller?" He asked, quietly, extending a hand. He could see the quiet, scared waif he had scooped up off of the quarter-deck when she was six in her eyes. Bush didn't know why it bothered him. Blood, death, lost limbs was a commonality on a Ship of the Line.  
  
"Mr. Bush," she replied, equally as quietly weakly collapsing into the door jam.  
  
It was the last thing she remembered for a few hours. 


End file.
